Oh Brother
by foreverafangirl93
Summary: Series of One-Shots of hurt!Sam protective!Dean. Leave prompts in the reviews and i'll be glad to put it in this series! Chapter 2 Summary: He shivers, but he knows it's pointless. He'll never get out. He'll never be free. Not that he should be, considering everything. A little AU one-shot to 12x02.
1. Chapter 1: 13x12

AN: I watched Sam get hit with a freakin sledge hammer and thrown against the wall and they're trying to tell me that he's totally fine physically? My hurt!Sam heart couldn't take it so this is what came out of it lol. Hope you like it! This is the first installment and every chapter after will be through prompts through reviews, so please leave a review with a prompt for hurt!sam protective!dean me to do :)

Summary: One-Shot Series. Hurt!Sam Protective!Dean. Chapter 1: Tag to episode 13x12. Sam wakes up to pain in the middle of the night.

 _I'll be your parachute_

 _When you are falling through_

 _When awful things surface_

 _But who is ever there_

 _To see you face your fear_

 _Your path is so unclear_

-Oh Brother _Saint Raymond_

Pain wakes him up in the middle of the night. For the first time in who knows how long, it's not nightmares. It's not phantom pain from his time downstairs. It's real, actual _pain_. His eyes burst open and he struggles to take a breath. He puts a hand to his ribs and black dots dance across his vision. Years of dealing with these types of injuries lets him know that if he doesn't do something soon, he's going to pass out and probably bleed out internally. He thought he was fine. He thought he could handle it. He looks at the doorway and knows there's no way he's going to actually make it out of his room to get help, not even across the hall to Dean's room. Screaming for his brother is impossible too. Everything at this moment seems impossible, but he tries to brush those thoughts away. He can't think about Mom or Jack or anything other than getting help right now. He reaches an arm out towards his nightstand and grabs his phone. Through blurry vision he hits the 1 and holds it up to his ear. He closes his eyes and takes shallow breaths. The phone rings once. Then twice.

Then, finally, a tired voice says, "Sammy?"

Sam's so happy he could cry. Shit, he might actually _be_ crying the pain is so bad. Everything's on fire _. He's_ on fire. He clenches his fists to remind himself that he's not there. He's out and this is normal pain from a hunt. Nothing he can't handle. Nothing Dean can't handle. That is, if his brother would get his ass out of bed. He tries to say his brother's name but nothing comes out but a wheeze.

"Sam?" Dean's more alert now, "What's going on? Why are you calling me?" _I'm right across the hallway_ goes unsaid.

Sam struggles but eventually gets out, "Help…"

Within seconds, Sam's door bursts open. Dean hurries into the room, limping as he does. He puts his hands on Sam's face, slapping him not so gently.

"Sammy? Sam, hey, come on… open your eyes. What's going on? What hurts?"

Sam opens his eyes, shifts his hands to his ribs. That seems to be enough for the older brother because next thing Sam knows, his brother is lifting up his shirt and cursing so much that it'd make a sailor blush.

"Son of a… you didn't say anything about this!" Dean exclaims, glaring at Sam, "you're probably bleeding out internally right now, you moron." Dean presses on his ribs and Sam lets out a groan, more tears falling from his eyes. Sam Winchester has known more than his fair share of pain in his life, but this… right now… _sucks_. Dean's examination doesn't take more than a minute before he says, "Looks like you just won a trip to the emergency room, Sammy."

Sam looks up at his brother, panicked. Pleading.

Dean's eyes lock on his, apologetic, "Sorry, kiddo. I can't fix this."

Sam's a 35 year old man and basically a giant, but the nickname provides the same comfort it did when he was 12. It takes herculean effort, but they manage to get him up and on his feet. Sam sways, swallowing back nausea.

"Steady there, gigantor… gotta get you to the car." Dean mutters.

"Shoes?" Sam asks as they shuffle him out of his bedroom.

Dean shoots him a glare, "No, princess, we don't have time to grab your heels for the ball. You're seconds away from bleeding out. Hate to be the wicked stepmother here, Sammy, but no ball for you."

Sam says nothing as they make their way to the garage, more tears leaking down his face when they finally manage to get him in the car. He's dying, he's sure of it. He's never been more sure of anything. He looks over at his brother. At the not so concealed panic on his face. Sam reaches out towards him as Dean starts the car. Sam latches onto his brothers thin sleep shirt. Dean looks at him.

"'m sorry," Sam manages.

"Shut up," Dean barks, but he puts his hand on top of Sam's head, holding him close enough for Sam to lean against him. He puts the car in reverse and getting them the hell out of the bunker faster than he ever has.

The whole trip for Sam is a total shitshow. His breathing still sucks and he's surprised he hasn't passed the hell out already. He feels Dean's glances and knows his brother is thinking the same thing. Sam looks out the front window and everything blurs together into one misshapen blob. His blinks become slower and he can feel time practically slipping away from him. He has to say something to Dean. He can't let himself go out on the last full length conversation they had. He can't let those be his last words.

"D'n," Sam tries, clenching Dean's shirt a little tighter. Dean's right hand moves from his head to the back of his neck, squeezing it.

"Almost there, Sammy. Just hang on, ok?"

"'m sorry," Sam swallows back tears, back everything he had been neglecting to say to his brother the past few weeks when hopelessness nearly swallowed him whole. The car hits a pot hole and his eyes close, but he can't help the scream of pain that he lets out. Dean's panicked voice yells over his scream, telling him it's going to be ok. That everything's going to be fine and suddenly Sam can't take it anymore.

"No," Sam says, once the pain dies down a little, though not fading completely, "no, ever'thing isn't ok. _I'm_ not ok a'd I'm sor'y I can't be. I hav'nt been for a while…I'm sorry I di'nt tell you…" Sam's voice fades off, his eyes closing and not opening. His breath hitches and Sam can feel himself floating.

The last thing he hears is his brother yelling his name and feeling the car coming to an abrupt stop.

XXXXX

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to the sound of beeping. He opens his eyes, head pounding and seconds away from telling whatever the hell it is to shut up when he realizes exactly where he is. He shifts on the bed, groaning as pain makes itself known. Another not so friendly reminder of what happened.

"Sleeping beauty finally wakes up." A tired voice says from the left.

Sam glances over and sees his brother, slouching in the chair by his bed. His hurt leg propped up on the end of Sam's bed.

"First I'm Cinderella and now I'm…" Sam swallows, "Sleeping beauty. Talk about misleading. How long…"

"Oh, not long," Dean snorts, sarcasm clear in his answer, "only 48 hours. Not a record breaker, but you've been in and out of it."

Sam's mind immediately wonders what he said in those 48 hours when he was awake. He looks away from Dean, unable to take his brother's glare.

"You're a moron," Dean starts, as Sam knew he would, "a complete, utter moron. You said you didn't get hurt. You said you were _fine_ and like an idiot, I believed you. I should've checked you over myself."

"It's not your fault," Sam mutters.

"Damn right it isn't. You're a grown, _overly grown_ , man, Sam." Dean exclaims, "you know the symptoms of broken ribs. You know the symptoms of feeling off. So, why didn't you say something?"

Sam closes his eyes, feeling tears slip out without his permission. He tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He wants to claim that he's tired and just fall asleep and completely avoid this conversation, but he knows his brother better than anyone. He's not going to let this go.

"Sammy," Dean says softly.

Sam opens his eyes, blurry with tears as he looks at his brother. "I'm sorry, I thought I was okay. I thought I could handle it."

"You were wrong," Dean says roughly, "You almost died. _Again_. What would I have done if you hadn't…"

"I'm sorry," Sam says again and before he can help himself he blurts, "I'm so not okay it's not even funny. I've tried, Dean. I've tried to be hopeful and think we can find a way out of this. It just all seems so impossible that I just want to lay down and not get back up. Let it be over."

There. He'd said it. What he's been thinking for days and talking about everything around that particular thought.

Dean lowers his leg and scoots the chair closer. "This about…him?"

Him, meaning Lucifer. Dean's no moron, he knows he struggled having the Devil back. Hell, in their _home_.

Sam barks out a laugh, "It's about _all of it_. Mom and Jack and….Yes, okay. _Yes_. It's about Lucifer. He… I'm not over it. I don't think I'll _ever_ be over it."

Dean grabs his arm tightly enough to reassure and comfort, but not tight enough to injure. "Sam, it's okay to not be okay. I know I've… I've tried to get you back in the swing of things. Get you back to the annoyingly hopeful little brother we both know you are. But… it's okay if that takes time. It's _okay_ for you to not be that right now." He pauses, "it's _not okay_ for you to not tell me about it. For you to hide yourself in your room and keep this all bottled up. For you to drink yourself to sleep every night. Yeah, Sam, I saw the bottles by your bed when I came rushing in to save your ass." Sam gives him an innocent puppy dog look before giving him a knowing one, "I know, I know. Pot meet kettle and all that, but Sam… it's me. You can tell me anything, you _know_ that."

"I can't," Sam says, brokenly, more tears falling as he feels Dean tighten his grip, "I can't, Dean. I can't put this on you. I won't."

"Yeah, well, how's that been working out so far?" Dean questions, eyebrow raised, "You were there for me when I told you about my… experience. We haven't ever really talked about yours. What with the wall coming down and everything, I have a pretty good picture, unfortunately, but…"

"But I haven't given you the play-by-play?" Sam says, roughly, "that's not… I can't…. No."

Dean nods, as if he had been expecting that, "Alright. I won't push you. You don't have to give me the whole book. I'm just saying… you want to talk, I'll listen."

"I know." Sam says, brokenly, "I'm sorry."

"Shut up," Dean says gently, squeezing his arm again. Sam thinks he'll move back now, ending the chick flick moment, but he doesn't.

They stay like that for a while. Sam falling apart and Dean letting him.


	2. Chapter 2: 12x02

AN: A very big thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed this series, it means a lot! :) Okay, so I totally read this prompt wrong lol. Instead of it taking place _after_ they rescue Sam, I made it that they were in the process of rescuing Sam. I'll totally redo it as this, obviously, wasn't what you meant. However, I liked how it came out so I figured i'd post it anyway lol. Hope you enjoy!

Prompt from 6BlueSweaters: This was so good. I love your writing. May I request that after Dean, Mary and Cas rescue Sam from Toni (12x02 Mamma Mia), Sam refuses to believe that its real. Because Dean's dead and Mary's been dead for like 30 years. He thinks its the drugs Toni injected him with. (And maybe a little Lucifer too?)

Summary: He shivers, but he knows it's pointless. He'll never get out. He'll never be free. Not that he should be, considering everything. A little AU one-shot to 12x02.

 _Loosen up and lose your mind_

 _You never know what you could find on the other side._

\- Lose Your Mind _Kodaline_

There's ice in his veins. He's as sure of it as he is his own name. He shivers, but he knows it's pointless. He'll never get out. He'll never be free. Not that he should be, considering everything. Toni was right about everything. How could she not be? She had the facts on her side and he had….well, he used to have a brother. Too bad he went and got himself blown up. At that particularly horrific thought, Sam shivers again as he feels his grief wash over him.

"You did this," His father suddenly growls from above him, face twisted up in disgust, "you are the reason our family is destroyed. If it hadn't been for you, Mary would be alive. Dean would be alive. And you know what we'd all be? A hell of a lot better off without you."

John Winchester had a way of making Sam feel so small and insignificant just by a word, or a phrase. It's been years since his father's been alive, but it's the same way now as it was back when he was younger. Sam shrinks in on himself, as best he can considering the handcuffs trapping him to the chair at his hands and also the rope at his feet. When John is silent for moment, Sam blinks up at him, but says nothing. How messed up is it that Sam hates being alone so much that he's actually happy to see a familiar face in this creepy ass basement, despite knowing it's not real. Despite hearing everything that made him a horrible son. A horrible brother. A horrible person.

That's when his father starts in on him again. Every word is like a blow to the chest, knocking him back and leaving him reeling. He tries to tell himself that this isn't real. This isn't actually happening. His dad, despite his faults, loved him. Silence only makes John angrier and he goes on and on, listing Sam's countless sins. Sam's a strong man, he can handle pain and torture, but this….this is on a different level. Hearing his own father calling him a monster, a colossal disappointment, and that his father should've smothered him in his crib when he had the chance is too much. His vision gets blurry and head suddenly feels too heavy. Everything feels too heavy. His head falls to his chest, breath hitching.

That's when Jess appears.

"How could you, Sam? How could you do this to me?" She cries.

Sam makes the mistake of lifting his head. Unable to help it, he lets out a distraught cry at the sight of Jess in front of him, dressed in her white nightgown. Flames lick at her skin, from her head to her feet. He can barely make out her face through the flames as her blood drips on the floor, mixing with the tears falling from her face.

"'m sorry, Jess," Sam whispers, tears now falling from his own eyes ,"God, I'm so sorry…"

Jess says nothing, just stands there as her flesh burns away. Sam turns his head away, heart breaking as he hears his former girlfriend scream out in agony. He hears a loud noise from above, gunshots , his broken mind rationalizes as he jumps a little in his seat, causing a wave of pain to flow through him. British Bitch really did a number on him. There's not one part of his body that doesn't ache. He hasn't felt this kind of pain since…

"Heyya, bunk buddy. Remember me?" Lucifer's face, his real, true face is in front of him and Sam bites back a scream. "I thought so. We had some good times, didn't we, Sam?"

Sam's heart is threatening to beat out of his chest, his body tingling as Lucifer gives him a wicked grin. He briefly wonders if he's having a heart attack. Not that it matters much. If he dies slow, if he dies quick, the results are the same. He'll be in the Empty with his brother and, at this point, that's all he wants.

"SAMMY!"

Sam briefly looks away from Lucifer towards the stairwell. His mind is a whirlwind, trying to keep up with what sounds are real and which ones are the result from the drug Toni gave him.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that. Pay attention to me," Lucifer whines before turning completely still, "Sam, you know I don't like it when you ignore me."

Sam shivers again, this time from pure fear rather than from the cold. He feels every nerve, every muscle in him go still when he looks at Lucifer and watches the angel's eyes flash bright red. He knows what those eyes mean. Sam's mouth opens as Lucifer shoves his hand inside his chest, twisting his organs around. Sam lets out a scream, pain erupting from every part of him.

"SAM!"

In the middle of his agony, Sam registers footsteps on the stairs. He hopes that it's Toni, or one of her British goons, with a gun coming to put him out of his misery. Suddenly, there are hands on his face. Rough, familiar hands. Sam's heart beats painfully. He'd known it was coming. He just wished it would be later. Much, much later.

"Sammy," the voice says, worried then orders, "Sam, open your eyes."

Sam shakes his head, not wanting to face his brother. Not wanting his brother to shout cruel, painful things at him. He knows he can take it from anyone else. His father. Hell, even Lucifer. From his brother…. that's a completely different story.

"Sammy, please."

Just like Dean, Sam's never been one to deny his brother a simple request. Even if this isn't really Dean. Sam's eyes blink open and looks…up? Sam's vision blurs but he blinks and it all comes back into focus. He's on the floor, he realizes. Dean's worried face hovers above him and Sam waits for the words he knows are coming.

"Sammy," Dean says gently, giving him a half smile. His hands ghosting over his hurt brother, as if not knowing where to start the process of triaging, "about time, bitch. You know how long we've been down here waiting for you to wake up from your nap?"

Sam blinks, having not expected those words, but says nothing. Dean frowns at him, feeling his forehead. "Sam?"

"What?" Sam asks, annoyed that this hallucination won't let him just lay there idly.

Dean lets out a relieved breath, "Come on, you think you can get up?"

Sam opens his mouth to say no, handcuffs tend to restrict your ability to move, when he realizes he's not even in the chair anymore. He's laying completely on his right side, handcuff and chair free. His eyebrows furrow. "Dean?"

Dean huffs a laugh, "Yeah, Sammy?"

Then he sees Lucifer in the corner, rolling his eyes and mocking Dean behind his back. He gives Sam a knowing look and mouths "it's not real. None of this is real." How could he have been so stupid? So desperate, even for a moment, to see his brother again?

Sam shuts his eyes closed, muttering as he shivers on the ground, "No no no no no"

"Sam!" Dean barks out, panicked as he puts his hands on Sam's shoulders, "Come on, man, open your eyes."

"Not real not real not real" Sam continues, "you can't be here." Sam's eyes burst open, wild and panicked as he reaches out and clenches his brother's jacket with shaking hands, "you can't be here, Dean! He's going to… he's going to hurt you!"

"What? Sam…" Suddenly, it clicks and Dean looks much older than he is as he grips Sam's shoulders a little tighter, "Sammy, no. you're not there. I promise, we got you out."

Even as Dean speaks, Sam's shaking his head in denial. "NO! Get away!" Sam exclaims and with effort Dean didn't even knew he had, Sam manages to get himself up on his feet and back into a corner. Dean's heart breaks at the sight of his gigantic little brother, cowering in the corner to get away from him. To protect him. From Lucifer who he is hallucinating, but still. This is so not how he pictured their reunion to go.

"Sammy, come on, I know things don't make a lot of sense right now. That bitch injected you -"

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes shoot across the room towards the stairs and Sam's do, too.

"NO!" Sam exclaims, sobbing as he falls on the ground, on his butt. He leans against the wall, drawing his legs up to his chest. The sight is so achingly familiar it makes Dean tear up. Sam's hands go to his head, clutching it, "Not you too…. I can't…"

"Sam!" His mother exclaims, moving towards her youngest. He's so big. Her eyes fill up with tears at the sight of him hurt and confused. Dean suddenly blocks her path and she glares at his back as he moves towards his brother. He puts a hand behind him, telling her to stay back. She glares even harder at him, but she listens.

"Sammy," Dean says, so brokenly that it makes Mary's fists clench, "Come on, dude, you're out. I promise." He pauses, "Give me your hand."

Sam, through tears, pulls his arms in closer and looks at something over Dean's shoulder. Dean glances behind him, knowing his mother is on the opposite side and that Sam's still seeing things. Dean reaches out, ignoring Sam's cry and grabs his brother's left hand. He looks for the familiar scar and presses hard. Not enough to make it bleed, but enough to hurt. He watches Sam for a sign of relief, but nothing happens. Sam still eyes him wearily, pressing himself into the corner as much as he can.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growls, standing up and walking away. He stops a few feet away and runs a hand down his face. He takes a deep breath and turns back towards his brother. Sam's watching him with a hopeful look.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean says tiredly.

"I don't feel so good." Sam says and then promptly passes the hell out.

Dean's reaction is instantaneous and takes Mary a little by surprise at how quick Dean is to rescue his brother from the fall. He rushes towards Sam, pulls him into his chest to keep him from falling on the floor.

"So…. Castiel?" She asks, waiting for Dean to look up.

He sighs and gives her a smile, "Yeah, now would be a good time to get the angel."

XXXXX

Sam startles awake, breath stuttering and heart pounding. The first thing he realizes is that he's no longer cold. That, and that he's lying in a nice, comfortable bed. He snuggles further into the covers, rejoicing in the comfort.

"Sammy? You awake for real this time?"

Sam's eyes dart upwards, seeing Dean in his doorway. Sam swallows, "Dean? You're…"

"Alive?" Dean questions, walking into the room and plopping down in the chair next to Sam's bed. "Yep." Dean confirms, popping the 'p.' "The drugs should be out of your system by now, at least according to British bitch and who even knows-" Sam sits up straighter, eyeing his brother closely. This is different than before, he realizes. His vision is clearer. Even Dean himself isn't as fuzzy as he was before. "What? You gonna puke?" Dean asks, "The trashcan is-" Sam reaches forward, pulling Dean into a hug. A solid, life confirming hug. "Alright, should've seen this one coming." Dean grumbles, more to keep up appearances than anything else, but reaches to hug him back. Sam tightens his hold, not wanting to let go and have this disappear.

"How?" Sam questions, "How are you alive? How is Mom…?"

Dean sighs and Sam finally lets go. When he does, Dean pats him on the knee, "I'll explain everything, ok? Just… let's get some food in you and…" Dean's nose scrunches up, "Dude, no offense, but you kinda reek. I definitely see a shower in your near future."

Sam barks out a laugh, and if his eyes are a little watery, neither of them mention it, "Offense taken. I was kidnapped, you jerk."

"That's no excuse to avoid basic hygiene, Sam." Dean teases, then adds with a smirk, "Bitch."

Sam, for the first time in what feels like centuries, finally feels at peace.


	3. Chapter 3: 8x06 (kind of)

Prompt from CBloom2: Absolutely loved that. I really wish that Sam would open up to Dean after all he always wants Dean to open up to him when there's something wrong. Really looking forward to seeing what else you've got in store for us.

I'm not very good at prompts but what about a one shot with Sam revealing what's really going on? Whatever you do I'm sure it will be fab xx

AN: Hi everyone! It's been over a year since I've posted anything, but with the last season upon us, I've been feeling inspired. I wrote this today on my lunch break lol Hope you enjoy and also hope it makes sense because I haven't written in a while!

Loosely set around 8x06. I can't remember the specifics of that episode, but I did remember the end scene in the parking lot so this was inspired by that.

xx

Sam stares at the contents of the Impala's truck, his duffel bag heavy in his right hand. He glances up before he decides not to throw his bag in and slams the trunk closed, causing his brother to look up from the driver's side, where he's spent the past several minutes on the phone. Dean says a quick goodbye to Benny and hangs up before he cuts a glare glaring at Sam. He points at him with his phone, warningly, "do that again and I'll-"

"You'll what, Dean? Kick my ass? I'd love to see you try." Sam argues, glaring right back at his brother. They both take a beat, just both glaring at each other before Sam looks away first. He hates this. He hates that their brotherhood has come to this. Sneering comments and sarcastic retorts.

He misses the camaraderie. The feeling of _even if this sucks, at least they're doing it together_.

He sighs, with feeling, and looks towards the motel to gets his breathing under control before he walks around to the driver's side of the car and stands in front of his brother. Dean stares at him oddly, not a glare as before, but not kindly either. He looks at him with a hint of mistrust and anger that look alone makes his decision for him. It's time to come clean, about everything.

Dean turns around to close the driver's door before he leans against it, fiddling with the phone as if he's bored. But Sam knows him. Better than anyone. Dean may look all Devil may care on the outside, but he knows he's preparing for whatever this is about to be.

Sam sighs, wearily, "Alright, man, let's do this."

Dean's eyebrows raise as he takes in Sam's suddenly resigned posture. Warning bells go off in his head, telling him this isn't going to be a fist throwing fight. He stops playing with his phone and puts it in his pocket. This is it, he thinks. They're finally _done._ At Dean's hesitant look, Sam finds himself once again grieving how easy they had had it a few years ago. When their biggest worry was finding their father. Not mistrusting the other brother's motives. Before angels and the devil came between them and nothing was the same.

Dean's harsh voice brings him back to reality, "Do _what_ , exactly, Sam. The hunt's done. We need to hit the road, times a wastin'"

Sam huffs, stopping himself before he can retort with an angry remark of his own. He settles for rolling his eyes and gesturing to the space between his brother and himself. "What we need to do is hash this shit out. I'm going to tell you exactly what went on with me when you were in Purgatory…the truth, this time," at that, Dean's already glaring at him again, but he continues on, "once and only once and then…then you're either going to let this grudge go or you're going to leave me here and we'll go our separate ways. For good."

Dean scowls, "Wow, the classics never get old do they, Sam? You wanna go? Fine. Go, but you stay gone, you hear me? This run away act of yours is getting a little tired-"

Sam's fists clench and his heart twists in his chest momentarily at the familiar words that before he forces himself to relax. Dean's acting out because of what he told him and the only way they're going to get through their issues is the truth. No matter how hard it is to say or think about. He swallows past the lump in his throat and plows onward, deciding the best way to do this is to spit it out. "You got sent to purgatory, I got sent to Hell."

Dean immediately stops talking as if he's a puppet who's strings just got cut. Blinking, as if he couldn't have heard what he just heard, he asks, "What'd you say?"

"You heard me." Sam says, feeling his anger drain away as he stares at the motel behind Dean. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he looks anywhere but at Dean. "When you and Cas were…blasted to purgatory, I was blasted to Hell. Crowley…he didn't want me to find you. Didn't want me asking questions. He threw me in a cell in… well, not…not _the cage_ and not anywhere near it, but…a holding cell in a level in hell where he keeps very specific souls for very specific reasons. Experimentation, he said." His eyes turn distant as the memories take over. His throat suddenly dries up just thinking about the months he spent, cold and hurt and _begging_ for death. He blinks and realizes he's back in the present. He looks down at his hands, "Amelia is a girl that was down there with me. All that bullshit about having an apple pie life was just that…bullshit. Well, mostly. We used to talk about what we'd do if we ever got out. Everything I said about her husband was true." He finds himself tearing up and shuffles on his feet to keep himself grounded in the present. "Being back there again…even though it was different in some ways…it was…" he trails off, eyes glazing a little as he finds himself once again falling back into the horrific memories before he shakes himself out of it. He glances to see if Dean's even paying attention. This is the longest his brother has gone without interrupting him in _weeks_. To his relief, it's clear that Dean's listening, his jaw tightening the indication for him to continue. "I was there for 10 months. Amelia, she, uh…she sacrificed herself for me." His voice trembles and he turns away, slightly, unable to help the tears that finally fall as he remembers her screams. He closes his eyes, trembling. "I can't…talk about that. About what went on there…I'm barely hanging on here, man. I thought lying would be easier…easier for you to be mad at me and easier for me, to push those memories down and bury them, but I can't…I can't do this anymore. I can't have you hate me anymore." Sam finally finishes, opening his eyes and staring at the stars above him. He swallows before wiping his face of residual tears and turns back around to face the music.

"I need my brother," Sam admits, staring at Dean with such despair that it nearly makes Dean cry just looking at him. "I can't do this alone anymore. I can't."

Dean swallows, blinking back tears.

 _I can't do this alone._

 _Yes, you can._

 _Yeah, well, I don't want to._

Sam's words make Dean think back to where this all started, him dragging Sam out of his comfy, Apple pie life in California only for it to blow up in their faces time and time again. These past few weeks have been torture, in their own way, as Dean tried putting distance between them. All the time he spent in purgatory, he only had one main thought: get back to Sam. Because it was only natural, even after all this time. Protect Sam. Save Sam. But, once he got back and heard Sam didn't look for him, that was a blow that he hadn't seen coming.

Truth be told, he's never really thought Sam needed him as much as he needed Sam. Even when they were kids, Sam saved him from letting the hunting world take a piece of his humanity. Sam kept Dean human. So, when Sam lied, saying he didn't look for him, it was just further proof of what Dean's thought for years. That Sam was glad he was gone, glad to finally be free of Dean dragging him through this life. Now, however, the truth is painful and hard to swallow, but it also brings relief and guilt with it. Guilt, because how _stupid_ had he been to believe the obvious lie that had come out of Sam's mouth? _Sam_ who had practically followed him around as long as the kid could walk. While Dean worshipped his father, Sam was busy worshipping Dean.

How quickly did he forget all those years in that one moment? Years memories gone instantly because of a lie that was crappier the more Dean thought about it. Dean lets out a huff, shaking his head. Sam watches and can practically see the wheels turn in his brother's head.

Dean's quiet for a long time and Sam's breathing fills the silence. In the distance, a car back fires but neither brother moves. At least, not at first. Sam's staring at his shoes and Dean's staring at Sam. Eventually, he can't take it anymore. The look on Sam's face, the heartbroken despair that he's only seen his brother wear a few times in his entire life. So, Dean steps back into the big brother role he's been avoiding since he got back and pulls his overly tall brother in for a hug.

Sam tenses before realizing his brother is hugging him, not punching him. He hesitantly puts his arms around him before relaxing.

"I'm sorry," Dean says, voice rough, "God, Sammy, I…I know better than to think you'd just leave me to rot."

"I thought you did, too," Sam admits, pulling away. He half grins, the sympathetic one he usually gives victims' parents and if that isn't a kick in the pants, Dean doesn't know what is. Sam, being Sam, still tries to console him,"But it's ok-"

Dean cuffs him on the neck, glaring at him, but not with anger. With affection. The patented big brother look that Dean's perfected over the years. "Don't you dare. It's _not_ ok. I treated you like trash because I didn't listen. That ain't gonna happen again. I promise."

Sam smiles, dimples and all, as he remembers a time long ago when he forced Dean to make promises every night for every little thing. Dean never broke them and looking at him now, Sam knows his brother won't break this one. Suddenly a little uncomfortable, Sam looks away. Dean swats him on the head playfully. It's his version of _we're good_.

"Listen, uh, what happened in… Hell," Dean swallows, looking sick as he says the word and Sam keeps his looking anywhere else, "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should've been there, Sammy."

"I should've been in Purgatory." Sam argues, his puppy dog eyes in full force when he looks back at his brother. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

Dean scowls, because it's not the same thing. _He's_ the big brother, even if his younger brother is grown up, and it's his job to protect Sam. Always has been and always will be.

"Sounds like you were more than a little preoccupied, Sammy. I just wanted to know that I…you know, mattered." At Sam's look he laughs a little, because _duh_ , Sam only has Dean and Dean only has Sam. That's how it's been and that's how it's going to be. Dean rolls his eyes, "Shut up. I know, alright? I'm ok. _We're_ ok." Dean finally says, lowering his arm and punching Sam in the shoulder. "Well, now we are."

Sam laughs, rubbing his arm, "Ow! If we're good, what the hell was that for?"

"A dog? Seriously?" Dean asks, incredulously, "THAT'S the best you could come up with?"

"Pissed you off, didn't it?" Sam laughs a little.

Dean pauses, thinking about it again for a moment before he punches Sam again, causing the younger man to groan and playfully glare at him. Dean smirks, moving back towards the driver's side. "That one was just because."

Sam rolls his eyes, hesitantly looking at his bag before back to his brother. Dean notices because Sam, as much as he thinks he is, is not subtle. Dean instantly moves away from the door, opens the trunk and throws the duffle in before slamming the trunk.

"Hey!" Sam shouts, face indignant as his arms wide spread as if to say _what the hell, dude_.

Dean smirks and shrugs, " _I_ am the only person who can do that. Get me, little brother?"

Sam rolls his eyes, but makes his way to the passenger side of the car. "Whatever. You're such a jerk."

"Yeah, well," Dean pauses, opening his door and waiting for his brother to meet his eyes over the hood, "you're a bitch."


End file.
